


Evidence

by rosecat13



Category: Welcome to Night Vale
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-11-15
Updated: 2013-11-15
Packaged: 2018-01-01 15:25:38
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 487
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1045526
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/rosecat13/pseuds/rosecat13
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>On request of a citizen of Night Vale, an officer who goes by the alias "Rookie" breaks into Carlos's lab in order to collect some rather nontraditional evidence.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Evidence

**Author's Note:**

> My first WTNV fic, as well as the first based off the lovely @NightValeSciFi and @NVSSP_Rookie 's interactions. The first fic in the RooFi fandom, officially.
> 
> This is the First Fic for RooFi. Wow. Wow.

Rookie creeps into the lab after picking the lock, glancing back to Buddy. The man had had the misfortune of kissing the scientist earlier, and had suffered from the aftereffects. Buddy was still light on his feet, giddy from the high of Latin-blooded kisses that still hadn’t calmed in his system. Carlos is in his bed, asleep. Well. Cot. The man is holding illegal contraband in his hand, and Rookie plucks the pen away from him, narrowing his eyes through the goggles. Of course he’d find that in plain sight. The scientist was sloppy.

But he’s not here to chastise the man. All day he had been hounded by him, being called a coward, being called out. Well, now the tables were turned. He turns Carlos's face towards him, and lightly removes the thick black glasses from his face. He takes a moment before turning to Buddy, nodding, and patting the scientist’s cheek. "Wake up.” His glove hits the stubble and he’s tempted to inspect further, but he holds back. He’s a man of restraint, and he wouldn’t fall victim to the man’s “Charms”. If they could even be called such.

Light brown eyes open and narrow in the space of a few short seconds. “What the hell-” The scientist is cut off by the man’s lips touching his own, freed from the mask he wore all waking hours of the day. Rookie’s eyes are open, watching as the others’ slide closed, a darker skinned hand resting on the man’s throat, and for once, it seems there’s no threat of it closing, and trying to choke. The camera shutter clicks, capturing the moment, and Rookie pulls away. Carlos’s eyes open immediately, spurred by adrenaline. “How fucking dare-” There’s the click and hiss as a sedative is injected into his neck, and Carlos makes something between a gasp and a choked groan of pain before going limp onto his pillow, eyes sliding closed once more.

“That’ll do it,” Rookie pats Buddy’s shoulder. His companion had been staring at the scientist for too long. “You go. The memory-loss chemicals will do the job for us.” Rookie replaces the mask, “I’ve got cleanup on this one.”

Buddy jogs out of the room, leaving the two alone. Rookie goes through the motions. He repositions the body, so the man seems comfortable enough. He replaces the glasses (who sleeps with glasses?) and retucks the sheet. There’s no evidence they were ever here, save the picture about to go viral. He looks over the sleeping figure, lab coat rumpled, lips softly parted. He tasted of oral hygiene products, and something more that clung to the officer’s lips. Rookie makes it to the doorframe before glancing back.

“Citizen,” he says, eyes lingering. But then Buddy honks the horn of the pizza delivery car, and he makes his way through the maze of glass tubing and unknown chemicals, locking the door on his way out.


End file.
